


gravity

by irlkaijugroupie



Series: veni, vidi, amavi [2]
Category: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), 3001: The Final Odyssey - Arthur C. Clarke, Space Odyssey Series - Arthur C. Clarke
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Multi, Physical Disability, Polyamory, and the first fic too, takes place after the events of the book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlkaijugroupie/pseuds/irlkaijugroupie
Summary: Even Ganymede’s miniscule gravity is too much for Frank sometimes.





	gravity

**Author's Note:**

> hmbmmmbmb im procrastinating on important work whats up can we get a yeehaw... this is lowkey a projection of my own physical problems so. whip
> 
> frank is tired and bi and so am i
> 
> enjoy yall....

Even Ganymede’s miniscule gravity is too much for Frank sometimes.

 

It always gets him at the most unexpected moments. Today, it’s in the olive grove, amongst the winding branches and green leaves, and the two suns in a sky he can never quite get used to. Ted and Indra sit on the ground on either side of him, talking about something or other, something that he is too deep in a haze to really pick apart. He thinks they both look utterly gorgeous, and their beauty swims in his sleepy vision.

 

He is being pulled, by both the gentle softness of sleep and by the relentless force of gravity. The more effort it takes to breathe against the strain is only very slight, but panic rises nonetheless.

 

His grips on both of them tighten slightly, and they both pause.

 

“Are you alright?” Indra asks him, her soft hand on his stubbly cheek. Frank tilts his hand into it.

 

“Just gravity,” he mumbles back, still half in a sleepy daze. Ted begins to massage one of his shoulders, and he hums pleasantly.

 

“Do you want a drink? Some juice?” Ted reaches for the thermos he has by his lap. It’s a kind offer, but Frank knows Ted.

 

“Not yours, that’ll make it worse,” he jests, and they all laugh, and Frank feels lighter already. He turns his gaze up to the brilliantly contrasted sky, a pure black broken apart by points of light, large and small. His partners follow suit.   
  


“I’ll always be a stranger here, won’t I?” Frank whispers softly. “Even after all these years, I’m still not used to such a sky.”

 

“Well then it’ll take your breath away each time,” Indra responds, equally soft. Ted then yawns, and moves to stretch across both of their laps.

 

“Yeah,” he says, far less eloquently, but he was never one for softness. “And, stranger or not, you’re a very kind one.” 

 

The smile on Ted’s face is more smirk than smile, but Frank leans over to kiss it nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

Even Ganymede’s miniscule gravity is too much for Frank sometimes.

 

It always gets him at the most unexpected moments. Today, it hits him hard, and he visibly gasps as he throws out his hand to lean on the kitchen wall. Ted jerks his head towards his spot by the counter, and does a little half jog over to him, cup of juice still in hand.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a warm hand on his shoulder. Frank looks at him.

 

“Gravity,” he gasps, clenching his chest. “It’s… harsh.” Ted looks at him understandingly, and - due to his height - has to reach up to his shoulders and tug, indicating Frank to sit down on the floor.

 

“Sit down, it’ll be easier,” Ted says, and Frank obeys, even going so far as to lay down on the cold tile. Ted joins him, and they clasp hands.

 

“Why does it have to hit me in waves like this?” Frank bemoans, and Ted looks over at him.

 

“At least then it’ll pass,” Ted responds, rubbing circles into Frank’s palm with his thumb. Letting his head flop, Frank turns over to Ted and looks at him.

 

He looks at Ted’s dark skin, quietly appreciating the way it contrasts with his light, swirling hair. It creates something wonderfully unique, and he especially loves the bright flecks of blond formed by Ted’s sideburns against his dark skin. Said dark skin is topped with freckles, many of them, smattered across his face to show a truly unique individual. Strange, sharp, just like Ted.

 

The Ted in question quirks his eyebrow. “What are you looking at?” He asks in a teasing tone of voice, and Frank melts.

 

He reaches a hand over to caress Ted’s face. “How gorgeous you are,” Frank responds reverently, and laughs when Ted’s face turns red in response.

 

They only get up once Indra comes home with food.

 

* * *

 

Even Ganymede’s miniscule gravity is too much for Frank sometimes.

 

It always gets him at the most unexpected moments. Today, it’s when he’s in the middle of kissing Indra. He lets out a wheeze and stumbles back, but Indra’s hands on his shoulders are steady. She looks at him with concerned, dark black eyes. He thinks faintly that her eyes are like a starless sky, but that thought is put aside for the more pressing issue.

 

“Is it gravity?” She asks, and he nods, feeling a bit sick. With a protective urgency, she gestures for him to sit down, and he does, leaning forward to rest his face in her collar. She pulls him close without hesitating, and cradles him gently as he rides out the sickness.

 

Frank turns his head slightly to look at Indra. He sees her long, thin face, and her cheekbones. He sees her pale skin which sometimes gleams in certain light, and he sees the short hair on the sides of her undercut, which he has felt many times, it being a soft and gentle, ever so prickly, fuzz. Her black hair is always well swept. She is positively gorgeous, amazing, and he loves her so.

 

“I love you a lot Indra, did you know that?” He whispers. “You and Ted. And Halman. All of you. I’ll never stop loving you.” Indra nods gently, and kisses his hair.

 

“Don’t talk, save your breath,” she says, and Frank responds in the form of silence. She soothes him by gently rubbing circles with her hands.

 

Eventually, he falls asleep there, and Indra doesn’t move either. Not even when Ted comes home, hours later. He’s putting his coat on the couch when he sees them. He chuckles and raises an eyebrow, and Indra responds with a finger to her lips.

 

Without a word, Ted walks over and huddles close to join them.

 

* * *

 

Even Ganymede’s miniscule gravity is too much for Frank sometimes.

 

It always gets him at the most unexpected moments. Today, it hits him when he’s curled up with his partners in bed. Even worse, it hits him when he’s thinking.

 

He’s thinking about Halman when it hits, and he’s missing them, and even after the long years after the eclipse, he’s never truly stopped. Neither did either of his partners. Perhaps that’s the nature of grief. So he lets himself think, but over the years he’s learned to practice not letting himself get too deep.

 

But the gravity doesn’t help.

 

Eventually the gravity passes, as it does, because he’s accepted long ago that all things will eventually pass. Even him. Even his partners.

 

He looks at the blankets curled around his and theirs sleeping figures, their peaceful, lovely faces, the dark room around them, blanketed in shadows, and the dotted sky.

 

Even this.


End file.
